Never Touch the Depths
by Zortified
Summary: A prequel to Hunters Under. Benjamin deals with a past mission.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Sunlight Will Never Touch The Depths  
Author: James Walkswithwind  
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made  
Summary: Prequel to Hunters Under. Benjamin deals with a past mission.  
Notes: Can't promise I'll work on this fast, but I had some pages' worth and thought I'd share. This story won't make as much sense unless you read Hunters Under, first, even though it is a prequel.  
  
  
  
Sunshine Will Never Touch the Depths  
  
The screams haunted him at night. Afterwards, he couldn't remember where they came from, he only knew he should have known what they were. He didn't want to ask; he didn't want to remember because then he'd know -- and something told him he was better off not knowing. In his dreams he was always afraid that one of them might realize he'd forgotten, that they would hear it in his voice or see it in his eyes somehow, and they'd yell at him again, accuse him, chastise him, blame him.. Each day as he awoke, he listened, waiting for the screams to fade, and wondered when they ever would.  
  
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There came a knock at the door, and Benjamin set his journal down. In the seconds it took to cross to the door he'd calmed and composed himself. With a bright, inquiring smile he answered the door, somewhat surprised -- and gratified -- there had been a knock at all. Most of his shipmates felt free to walk in, as his room was also his office. The fantasies of finding a lock to put on the door usually faded before he could requisition anything really useful, though.   
  
He gave Ensign Wollers a cheerful greeting, and stepped back to let her inside, listening half-heartedly to her requisition and completely ignoring the paperwork she was trying to hand him. He didn't worry about locks right now, though, only about the extra box of toothpaste which was supposed to be on the shelf somewhere. He found it and handed a tube over, finally accepting the papers and setting them on a shelf behind him. Another cheerful farewell, and he shut the door behind her and he started back for the bed, to pick up the journal again.  
  
Where he stopped. Did he really want to read it?   
  
He'd been digging through his older journals, skimming the pages for some clue as to his nightmares. He'd never written anything down in detail -- a serious breach of security that would have had him in deeper water than even the seaQuest could rescue him out of. But he did write down things he felt, and thought, and saw in his off-duty hours, hints that only someone who knew Benjamin's own head would understand the significance of. Nothing concrete, still nothing more than a clue for detail -- but things, diaphanous and misleadingly normal, that they served only as reminders of what he'd really done, and said, and believed.  
  
He hadn't been able to find any entries which explained the feelings he had when he awoke. These dreams he'd had for months, now, dreams he could not recollect having before, nor recollect their origin. The missions he remembered over the last year -- every mission he'd *ever* had, since the first time the Colonel had sent the group of boys out into the ocean alone with nothing but their training and their orders to hold them up -- told him nothing. Successes, failures, call it a draw and get out alive, all their missions were accounted for.  
  
But something had happened, because in his dreams he could see his comrades. He could hear their shouts and feel the comfortable weight of his equipment on his back and at his waist. He could even, sometimes if he awoke too soon, hear the faint ping of the sonar at his jaw. That told him it was recent -- recent enough that they'd been given those new toys to use. A year ago he'd still been using nighthawks and infrared scopes.   
  
There was only one entry which made him think his dreams were memories, rather than fears blossoming into phantom scenarios. A few scrawled pages, left loose in a book so he could not determine when they'd been written. They'd been torn out of the back of a blank book, and stuffed into a book he'd filled four years before. Nothing on them that made any sense, nothing that anyone else would interpret as anything other than wishful thinking, dreams of vacation, and fantasy. Nothing except the words scattered here and there, the sentence that made him think he must have been drunk when he'd written them. He'd written that he wanted to go to the Catalinas, instead of down. He had enjoyed the last set of movie disks and would not order any more from that company again. Stop playing cards in the middle of the night and try to get a little more sleep. Stop playing computer games with Lucas because he kept losing. Stop playing music so loud it made his ears ring. Right at the end, he'd written, "Sunshine doesn't reach the depths of the ocean floor."  
  
Benjamin had no clue what it meant. He wished he could just assume he *had* been drunk off his ass, and written nonsense. Only...he didn't get that drunk. Not when he was off-base, and there was a chance he'd get called up. He knew he'd been trying to say something. Only he didn't know what, anymore.  
  
Did he really want to remember? Did he really want to know what must have happened, that had been so bad he'd somehow made himself forget? He decided he didn't want to know, not yet, not now. Not while he was still on this ship, surrounded by people who didn't, wouldn't, couldn't understand, even if they'd been allowed to know. He had to keep his silence and hope that when he got some leave scraped together he could go find someone who might know.   
  
Benjamin spent a few moments relaxing, meditating, making sure the lack of memories wouldn't drive him to distraction, easing away from the feelings the dreams stirred in him every time he woke. Then he left the room to do something that had nothing to do with working, or reading, or remembering. The gym offered a nice retreat, and he spent some quality time with hand weights which would have been too heavy, if he'd been paying proper attention.  



	2. Chapter Two

Sunshine Never Touches the Depths  
chapter two  
  
Later that day he was up on the bridge, watching the screens flash and blip. Benjamin wondered if he could afford to bring up a game of Tetris on the small section of screen which was hidden from view of the rest of the bridge. He had done it before, when no one higher ranking than Crocker had been standing watch. If he kept the sound off, and only played one of the earliest, 2-D versions, he could sit and play while appearing to stare at his work screens. Unfortunately, with Commander Ford pacing the bridge behind him, the risk was usually too great. Maybe if he just dialed up one of the network channels?  
  
He tried not to glance over his shoulder to see if anyone was paying him any attention, while he fiddled with a few of the controls. He actually had one channel pre-programmed in, so he could watch cartoons during the night shift. Normally he wouldn't consider it during the afternoon, but he needed something to distract him. Work wasn't going to do it -- not the 'sit and watch the screens' bridge duty he had. If he just sat here for six hours, he was going to end up thinking about everything he was trying *not* to think about.   
  
On the other hand, he didn't feel like taking a risk of getting Ford upset with him again so soon. The poker game Ford had discovered had been bad enough- not entirely against regulations, but Benjamin had been pushing the limits. In fact, Ford had been keeping an eye on him rather closely all week, as if waiting for Ben to do something.   
  
If he couldn't goof off, and he couldn't depend on his regular duty to give him something sufficiently interesting, he had only one choice. A few quickly typed commands, a network connection he wasn't technically supposed to make, a second he wasn't supposed to know how to make, and he had access to his desktop down in Main Supply. The never-ending supply of reports and paperwork would be sufficiently mind-numbing to get him through his shift.   
  
He buried himself so deep in his work he was startled when the ships' comm system came on. O'Niell's voice called out to Commander Ford.  
  
"I'm picking up an automated signal from an abandoned base. It's old, the codes are at least five years out of date."  
  
Benjamin watched out of the corner of his eye, quickly shutting down the screens he'd had up, as Ford hurried over to the comm station. "Which base?"  
  
O'Niell was staring at his readouts, and Benjamin could see him frown. "That's odd. It doesn't identify itself. The signal is just broadcasting a typical 'this base abandoned, authorised personnel only' message."  
  
Everyone on the bridge was openly watching, now. Benjamin turned his chair towards the comm station, trying to recall if he knew of any bases in the area that had been abandoned at least five years ago. He couldn't recall any off-hand, but he didn't always memorise the lats and longs of each base he'd ever visited.   
  
"Doesn't identify itself?" Ford was asking. "Whose base was it?"  
  
O'Niell listened again to his earpiece, then shook his head. "I don't recognise the code. The seaQuest computer verifies that the code is a legitimate one, but there's either no record of who used the code, or it's a general one that anybody could use. Or--"  
  
"Or?" Ford prompted.  
  
O'Niell shrugged, demonstrating that he doubted the veracity of what he was about to say. "Or the seaQuest isn't cleared to receive the base's identity."  
  
"That's not likely," Ford said. "But call the Captain to the bridge, just in case."  
  
O'Niell nodded, and they waited as he made the call. When the Captain was on his way, Ford asked, "Who's held this area, historically?"  
  
Again, they all waited as O'Niell searched for the information. Benjamin recalled what he did know of the region, and realized that O'Niell might not find anything useful. His guess was confirmed when O'Niell looked up. "I'm finding a list of disputed claims of ownership going back ten years. So far there are twelve countries, four corporations, and ten individuals who have at one time or another been the...er...possible owner." He shook his head. "I can't make sense of it, Commander. Maybe you should have Lucas wade through these files."  
  
"That might not be necessary," Ford replied. He didn't sound particularly worried about the lack of definitive information. "An automated signal coming from an abandoned base--"  
  
"Are we sure it's abandoned?"  
  
Benjamin watched Commander Ford's face, as the Captain went over to join Ford and O'Niell. He didn't look too enthused about the idea of spending time checking out ancient, deserted underwater bases.   
  
"There's no sign of activity," Ortiz interjected from his station. "I've had all three whiskers checking the perimeter."  
  
"And there have been no responses to any attempts at communication, other than the initial signal," O'Niell added.  
  
Benjamin could see it on Ford's face. He wanted to say 'so let's just *go* and leave this place to rust'. It was enough to make Benjamin hope they could go explore it, just to give Ford a hard time. He didn't particularly want to tromp around on an abandoned base either, but if it would annoy Ford...he was all for it.   
  
It would certainly be more diverting than doing his reports.  
  
  
end chapter two 


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